


Masquerade

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [35]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan just happens to be in the neighborhood on Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the episode All The Way.
> 
> Written by Mydeira, beta'd by Sadbhyl

Ethan watched from the shadows of the old oak in the Summers’ front yard. Judging by the number of cigarettes lying on the ground, it was a frequent post of observation for someone.

He hadn’t been there all that long, no more than twenty minutes. It was fascinating to see the various combinations of costumes that passed by him in the short time he’d been standing there. A slight smile touched his lips thinking of all the possibilities of having Wonder Woman, Frankenstein, and a Teletubbie meet. The charming of the costumes had been one of his more ingenious ideas if he did say so himself.

The arrival of a new group interrupted his musings. On cue, Joyce appeared with her well-stocked bowl of treats. She almost looked happy.

After the group left and Joyce shut the door, Ethan decided it was time to stop playing voyeur. That was Rupert’s thing.

Marching up to the porch, he rapped twice on the door.

Joyce opened the door, smile in place and candy at the ready. The smile quickly faded when she saw who it was.

“Trick or treat,” he said lightly.

Recovering, she stepped out of the way. “Ethan, come in.”

There was little warmth in the invitation, more polite courtesy than anything else. This was going to be even more fun that he’d anticipated, he thought grimly.

The candy bowl clattered against the marble of the foyer table as Joyce set it down. She leaned against the counter edge for support, shoulders sagging.

“What do you want, Ethan?” she sighed, keeping her back to him and only looking at him via his reflection in the mirror.

“I can’t just stop by?”

“You never just stop by. Not anymore. Not since . . .”

Ah, the famous elephant in the corner of the room.

“I wanted to see how you were holding up,” he said, approaching her cautiously.

She gave a bitter laugh. “How I’m holding up? Shouldn’t I be deliriously happy?”

“Joyce.”

She faced him then, voice rising as she spoke. “I should be, right? I have my health. My dead daughter is alive. I have not one but two men in my life. What could possibly be wrong?”

Ethan was close enough to touch her, and he did, reaching out slowly to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. Her eyes closed as she leaned into the caress. But it only lasted a moment. Joyce quickly jerked away.

He tried not to let the action hurt him.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Can’t do what?” he asked, keeping his tone even, squashing his emotions.

“This. Us. I just . . .” she floundered.

“The thrill is gone, eh?” the bitterness was not masked by the light tone.

She frowned, but didn’t disagree. “Maybe it is.”

Joyce moved to walk around him, but Ethan closed the distance, effectively pinning her against the table. He wasn’t letting her get away tonight. He’d been walking on eggshells these past few weeks, months if he was really honest with himself. And that really wasn’t his style.

“Ethan,” she said impatiently.

“Maybe,” he sneered, pressing close. “My dear Joyce, there is no halfway with something like this. Either it’s over or it’s not.”

“Is that why you came tonight? To give me some kind of ultimatum?” He noted how she was struggling to remain cool and collected. But her breathing had sped up slightly and color was rising in her cheeks. He was getting to her. Even if it was only anger. That was better than cold detachment.

He leaned close to whisper lightly against her ear. “Is that what you want, Joyce? A clean-cut choice?”

He felt her struggle against the shiver that passed through her body and reveled in the sensation. How he loved having that effect on her! The needs of the body overcoming the rational mind. It had been too long since he had touched her, since her soft flesh had welcomed him, invited him into its warmth.

It wasn’t until her breath caught sharply that Ethan realized his hand had found its way to one of her breasts, cupping the fullness as his thumb rubbed idly across the nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt.

His eyes found her face, took note of the lowered lids and slightly parted lips. Maybe her response wasn’t all anger.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and rough. “I’ll make it easy on you. I can step away and walk out that door, or I can stay.”

She blinked at him.

“Go or stay? A simple choice.”

Joyce bit her lip as the fingers of her right hand came up to gently trace the lines of his face. “I wish it were that simple. There’s too much that—”

He caught her hand. “Go or stay. One or the other, Joyce. It doesn’t get more simple than that.”

“Ethan, I—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish as he captured her lips with his own. He did not ask permission nor was he gentle. His tongue thrust inside her mouth, making further speech impossible, trying to crush thoughts of all that was and had been going on around them. No accusations. No worries. Just a man and a woman.

Joyce gave a quiet moan as she finally yielded to his onslaught, drawing him deeper, pulling him closer.

His hands roamed, seeking to map out ever square inch that he had been denied, had denied himself for far too long. Reaching her ass, he hoisted her up to rest on the ledge of the table. And she complied, spreading her legs to wrap around his waist, bringing their cloth covered sexes into direct contact. Even through three layers of material he could feel her heat, burning against his erection, calling to him.

Ethan pulled back to nip along her throat. “Too long,” he murmured against her skin, feeling her pulse dance erratically against his tongue and lips.

“God, more,” she tipped her head back, allowing him greater access, and he took full advantage, searching out every single point that made her gasp or shiver or cry out.

He ran his tongue with flat pressure up along her jugular. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there.

“More,” she moaned again.

Only one thing to do. He shifted from between Joyce’s legs to lift her into his arms. Taking her mouth once more, he carried her up the stairs and to her room.

They fell on to the bed, a tangle of limbs and frenzied fingers working to quickly undo buttons and zipper to get past the hindering layers of clothing to bare flesh. Frustrated at the slow progression, Ethan ripped apart the remaining buttons of Joyce’s shirt. Ducking his head down, he nosed over the lace of her bra to bite down on a peaked nipple.

She gave out a sharp cry of pleasure bordering on pain. In retaliation she gripped his cock tightly in her hand, teasing her thumb over the slick head. He arched into her.

“Christ, what you do to me,” he rasped, nuzzling between her breasts.

Soon he had her trousers off and red satin panties tossed aside. She aided with her feet as he wiggled free of his own pants.

At last unencumbered, he positioned himself at her slick opening and sheathed himself in one quick thrust.

“Fuck!” Joyce screamed, lifting to open herself more, her soft muscles closing around him, holding him in place, pulling him in.

Ethan pulled out until he was nearly free, then plunged in again. Out and in, out and in. A frantic fuck that only grew in pace and intensity as they built toward climax.

Joyce’s nails bit into the flesh of his back, stimulating the nerve endings. The stinging of the tiny crescent marks only drove him on harder.

His own climax overtaking him, Ethan’s teeth clamped down on the tight muscle between Joyce’s neck and shoulder. Her sharp gasp of surprise became a scream as she began to shaking, coming violently around him.

Minutes passed as they lay there, not speaking as they came down. There was only the sound of their labored breathing to break the silence.

Joyce pulled away first, getting up and heading into the bathroom. The loss of her body brought a chill to Ethan as the air hit his sweat-covered skin.

Ethan remained in the bed, trying to savor the moment and not think about anything. Which was next to impossible with nothing to occupy himself aside from getting dressed. Not that anything really could distract him from the estrangement and awkwardness that overshadowed their encounters these days. For a few blissful moments he had almost been able to forget, to believe that things could return to the way they had once been. The passion was still there, and likely always would. But it was possible that too much else was between them now to make that enough.

When she finally emerged ten minutes later, her hair had been swept up and she was fully dressed in fresh clothes.

Her mouth opened as if to speak when a commotion erupted downstairs. Young, excited voices fought one another to be heard. The children were home.

 

 

Ethan waited upstairs until the voices downstairs moved to other parts of the house. He could just make out Joyce’s and Rupert’s among the cacophony. No better time to make his exit than when everyone else was busy elsewhere.

He made his way silently down the stairwell and was nearly to the door when the demon girl caught him.

“And where do you think you are going?” Her arms crossed as she gave him a reproving look.

“Away,” he said turning the knob.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she strode forward and turned the lock. “No one walks out on my engagement party.”

Engagement? That gave him pause. So the boy thought he was ready to be a man, did he? Hm.

“Well?” she tapped her foot.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

Ethan reached for her left hand and kissed her fingers lightly. “All the best to you and the boy, Anya.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she smiled.

“I suppose it wasn’t. May I leave now?”

Her face fell. “You’re not staying? But there’s punch and festive decorations conjured by Willow.”

“Conjured?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Of course, Tara didn’t approve. But I think they turned out lovely.”

Of course Tara didn’t approve. The girl had half a brain to know her lover was entering into some dangerous territory treating magic so lightly. He had a feeling trouble wasn’t that far off.

“I thought you might like to know that Joyce is almost glowing,” Anya cut into his thoughts. She eyed him appreciatively. “You must be good.”

Through the doorway he caught sight of Rupert and Buffy carrying drinks into the living room. Rupert spotted him instantly, giving him a look that said, “Oh, thank god.”

Looked like he wouldn’t be able to make that quick exit after all.

Anya was tugging at his arm. “There’s free food. Who can say no to free food?”

“You just want to make certain I get you a gift,” he said.

“Of course!” she admitted freely.

Ethan admired the girl’s lack of artifice. Over the past year as he’d gotten to know her, he had almost come to look forward to her abrupt outright manner of speaking. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the others.

He let her lead him into the room, only to quickly abandon him, her mission complete. He wasn’t alone long before Rupert came over to join him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” his friend said pointedly.

“Just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

Rupert rolled his eyes. “How is she?”

“Anya? Ecstatic, it seems,” he commented, skirting around the obvious.

“Ethan.”

“Our girl is hanging on by a thread.” He chuckled bitterly. “Not sure if she really is our girl anymore. Possibly yours. But I doubt as if she’ll ever be mine again.”

Ripper eyed him critically.

Ethan shook his head. “You know as well as I that sex isn’t always a symptom of a healthy relationship. It can signal the end as much as anything else.”

Dawn’s shrill voice disrupted all conversations in the room. “But, Mom, you said I could go!”

“Sweetie, I just thought with Xander and Anya’s party you might—”

Dawn cut her off. “But we agreed to this weeks ago!”

“It is quite late, I’m not sure that you should be going out right now.”

The youngest Summers gave the world-oppressed sigh common to all teens. “It’s Halloween. This is the one night that I will be safe. Isn’t that right, Buffy?”

The Slayer blinked in shock at being suddenly drawn into the conversation. “This is between you and Mom, don’t drag me into this.”

“But it’s safe, right? Evil’s night off,” the girl pleaded.

Buffy threw up her hands. “Let her go. Ethan’s here,” she gave him an accusatory look, “and as long as she’s not going to a frat party she should be fine.”

He watched as Joyce leaned wearily against the wall. “Go. But if there is any trouble, I mean any trouble . . .”

“I know, I know,” Dawn pecked her mother on the cheek before giving the group her hurried good-byes and rushing out the door.

Ethan almost envied her.

 

 

Things were winding down when he found Joyce alone in the kitchen.

“It was nice that you stayed,” she said, keeping her back to him as she washed the dishes.

“You think Anya gave me any choice?” he returned lightly.

He heard her give a short laugh. “No, I doubt she did.”

Ethan leaned against the island, watching as she worked.

“What?” she turned.

“Nothing,” he said, memorizing every detail from crinkled brow and escaping hair to her collar which was askew, revealing a faint red mark. Drawn to it, he pushed the neckline over more to reveal an almost perfect imprint of his teeth.

Joyce shrugged him off. “We’ve both done worse than that,” she said, returning to her task.

That they had.

The phone jangled in the background, but she either didn’t hear it or chose to ignore it.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted quietly.

He heard the phone silence in mid-ring as someone picked it up.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said in the same hushed tone.

There was more he wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t come.

It was just as well that Rupert chose that moment to burst into the kitchen.

They turned to look at him.

He looked at them apologetically. “That was Mrs. Penshaw, Janice’s mum. Seems the girls played the old bait and switch.”

Joyce tossed the glass she had been washing into the water, the splash hitting both her and Ethan.

“I knew it! I knew better than to—”

“Joyce, I’m sure she’s—”

Her glare stopped Ethan short. Right, not his place.

“We’re heading out now,” Rupert said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Just bring her home,” was all she said, and went back to the dishes.

After the umpteenth interruption that night, Ethan decided to take a hint and quietly walked out the back door. No one tried to stop him.  



End file.
